


Why Does Grizzop Keep Getting Invited To Parties?

by Zai42



Series: October 2020 [28]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Drunken Confessions, M/M, Mushrooms, Other, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Pollen, Weird Biology, Xeno, more drugged less drunk but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27243424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Cuz he's a fungi!Prompt: Xeno
Relationships: Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam/Oscar Wilde
Series: October 2020 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946893
Comments: 22
Kudos: 43
Collections: A Wilde Ride October Collection





	Why Does Grizzop Keep Getting Invited To Parties?

**Author's Note:**

> I do not remember how or why mushroom goblins were brought up but I'm in love with them now.

Grizzop’s inhumanity came through in little glimpses, usually. Big eyes reflecting scant light like a cat’s; sharp points of teeth glinting in his smile; the deep forest green of his blood. Small things. Other races had similar enough tells, tiny inhuman tics, and humans themselves were odd enough in their own right, Oscar thought.

This, though.

Grizzop glimmered in the moonlight, somewhere between powdery snow and dew in the grass, and it rose off his skin like steam off a horse in winter. He exhaled slowly, blowing currents through the sworls in the air around him. His ear flicked lazily in Wilde’s direction. 

“Spores,” he said, like that explained anything at all. “Don’t get too close, don't know what they’d do to your lungs.”

“What are they intended to do?” Oscar asked, settling back against a tree, upwind of Grizzop.

Grizzop held out a hand, palm up, and Oscar watched the spores rise up off him, sparkling eddies of dust, silver in the moonlight. Like stars, like the fuzz off a dandelion. “It’s a sex thing,” Grizzop said, so bluntly that Oscar couldn’t stop the undignified snort of laughter it pulled from him. “Like - ‘hey, over here, I’m - ’ well, you know.” He scratched the back of his neck, blushing faintly. “But it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s nearby to notice.”

“Just me.”

Grizzop rolled his eyes. “Just you, Wilde.” He glanced at him, his eyes luminous even in the dim light. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Oscar shrugged. “You weren’t at dinner,” he said. “It seemed unlike you.”

“Did you bring me something?”

“No.”

Grizzop snorted, ears flicking, sending spores flying before they settled back into ambient floating. “Thanks,” he said dryly, but Oscar could see the points of his teeth where he was grinning. “Was there something you _did_ want?”

“Nothing,” Oscar said. Grizzop settled back onto his rock, eyes focused on the full moon, but Oscar could tell his attention was still half on him. His ears were rotated, his spine rigid, like he was waiting to have to leap into action.

It was an effective enough signal, Oscar mused. Grizzop did look striking like this. He wondered if it was meant to be visual at all, or if it was more complicated than that; he wondered what effect it would have on goblin lungs. He wondered if goblins had lungs. He wondered if it would be rude to ask. He opened his mouth to do so anyway when the wind changed.

It was just a gust, no more than two seconds of the wind whipping around itself, and Oscar had a moment to marvel at the glittering vortex around Grizzop before he was bent double coughing. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he heard Grizzop say, and blinked tears from his eyes to watch him scramble from his perch and dart over to Oscar’s side. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t know what those would do to you,” he said, slapping Oscar hard on the back. “Do you feel like you’re dying?”

“I feel like I swallowed a cotton ball,” Oscar croaked. He waved Grizzop off, straightened, took careful stock of his physical state. His eyes were watering and he felt flushed and lightheaded from coughing, but other than that he felt fine. No pain, no black spots encroaching on his vision. He looked down to inform Grizzop and found himself struck speechless.

Oscar prided himself on being open-minded. He’d been with people of as many shapes and sizes as he could convince to join him in bed, and unlike a great many humans, he saw the appeal of just about every sapient race to walk the earth. He wasn’t picky and he wasn’t blind - he knew Grizzop was an attractive goblin. It was just - perhaps it was the angle, or the moonlight, or the soft cloud of spores still shimmering around him - somehow, in the last twenty seconds, he had become the most beautiful creature Oscar had ever laid eyes on. His eyes, pupil-less and crimson, stared up at Oscar with concern; the moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, casting shadows along his cheekbones and his jawline; whorls of spores glimmered against the velvet-dark of his skin, perfect and unblemished.

Oscar blinked. He still felt flushed and lightheaded, though he hadn’t been coughing for some time. “I,” he said.

“I’m going to heal you,” Grizzop said, loud and slow and gentle, like maybe Oscar couldn’t understand him. “I think you might’ve scrambled your brain a bit.” Grizzop took Oscar’s hand in his; Oscar moaned, legs going out from under him. Grizzop squawked in alarm. “Uhm,” Grizzop said, high and worried. “Wilde? Hey, what - ”

“I think,” Oscar said, clinging to Grizzop. The earth below him seemed to be moving in sluggish waves; Grizzop was the only solid thing in reach. “I think. I think you may have gotten me high.”

“You have got to be kidding,” Grizzop said.

“Did you know you’re beautiful?” Oscar asked.

“You have _got_ to be _kidding,”_ Grizzop said again, with more emphasis. “All right, we should - should get you into bed?”

“No.” It wasn’t so much that Oscar leveraged his weight on purpose; he just went limp, and the sudden dead weight knocked Grizzop off-balance and sent them both to the ground. “It’s nice out here. With you.”

Grizzop was quiet but for a faint sigh. He brought his hand up to pet Oscar’s hair. “You don’t want to sleep out here,” he said eventually, glancing down at where Oscar had snuggled up on top of him.

“I might,” Oscar said, a little indignant. “I’m not as soft as you think I am, you know. I can - I could survive one night outside.” He brought his hand up to pet down Grizzop’s chest. He wasn’t wearing his armor, and the laces of his shirt were undone, revealing a tempting expanse of smooth skin, dotted with spores. Oscar wondered where they were coming from. They swirled across Grizzop’s skin like ripples on a pond when Oscar dragged his fingers over them.

“Stop that,” Grizzop said, strangled. “Just - just sleep it off.”

Oscar huffed. “You’re no fun at all,” he said, flopping dramatically onto his back. “I haven’t had the chance to get properly fucked in ages and you want me to sleep it off?”

Grizzop sputtered, hoisting himself up on one elbow and looking incredulously down at Oscar. “To get _what?”_

Oscar arched an eyebrow, grinning. “Fucked,” he said, dragging the word out to three syllables and accentuating each one. “I meant it in the perfectly innocent sense of getting utterly off my tits high, what did you think I meant?” Grizzop sputtered; Oscar smiled serenely at him. “I did mean it, you know.”

“Mean what,” Grizzop spat.

“You’re quite lovely. I mean, you’re attractive all the time” - (“What,” Grizzop said flatly) - “but tonight in particular. I was wondering if it was a visual signal of your fertility, because really, if not, then - ”

“Wilde,” Grizzop said, burying his face in his hands, the tips of his ears flushing. “Shut up. You’re high. Stop talking.”

“I’ve thought this before, you know,” Oscar said, pillowing his head on his arms and looking up at the sky. “I think mostly you’ve lowered my inhibitions. It’s not as if I haven’t been flirting with you since we met.”

Grizzop glanced over at him. “What,” he said again.

“Oh, yes,” Oscar said, waving a vague hand. “I think I mucked it up at first but you seem to hate me slightly less, now, at least.”

“I don’t hate you,” Grizzop mumbled. “You did fuck it up pretty bad,” he said as an afterthought.

“I am sorry for that,” Oscar said. “And I’m sorry it took being drugged to the gills to apologize,” he added after a moment. He rolled his head to look over at Grizzop, going slightly breathless at the moonlight gleaming in his eyes. “In my defense,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting you to be so - ”

“Don’t,” Grizzop said stiffly, “don’t call me beautiful again. Twice is plenty.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Grizzop jolted like he’d been shocked. “You _just said_ you’re drugged off your gourd!” he protested.

“I wanted to before I was off my gourd,” Oscar said, scooting closer. “I’ve kissed plenty of people while I was off my gourd.”

“Not _me,”_ Grizzop said. It was hard to tell with no pupils, but Oscar could have sworn his eyes flicked down to his lips. “Look just - just look at the stars and get all philosophical or whatever it is you do when you’re high, okay?”

Oscar sulked, flopping limply across Grizzop’s lap like an insulted cat. “Fine,” he huffed. “You’ll stay?”

“I know you said you’re not that soft,” Grizzop said, petting Oscar’s hair again, “but I wouldn’t make you sleep outside alone.”

“Truly a gentleman,” Oscar mumbled. “Which stars shall I get philosophical about, then?”

The night passed pleasantly enough, the air warm and comfortable. Oscar floated pleasantly and Grizzop seemed happy enough to let him babble now that the subject had moved on to something other than himself. He half-dozed near midnight, cuddled close to Grizzop’s side against the faint breeze.

The sky was grey with pre-dawn when he snapped awake again, shivering in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. Grizzop woke more slowly, untangling himself from Wilde, ears flicking. “What’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Oi. Wilde? You hurt?”

“No,” Oscar said stiffly. His breath was coming in rapid heaves. Grizzop laid a worried hand on his shoulder and a full-body shudder ripped through him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t,” he gasped, jerking away. “If you don’t - I - I’m sorry, I think - ”

“You gonna be sick?” Grizzop asked. “Need me to hold your hair back?”

Oscar laughed, high and wild. “No,” he said, voice wavering across three octaves in that one syllable. “I, ah - ”

“Oh for - will you look at me?” Grizzop grasped his jaw and tilted his face around, and Oscar bit clear through his lower lip to keep from moaning. “Oh,” Grizzop said, taking in Oscar’s flushed face, his overbright eyes. “You, uh. You still high?”

“Not...quite,” Oscar ground out. “Grizzop, I - if you have - moral compunctions about - I can just go,” he managed, pained.

Grizzop shifted. “I...I don’t - I didn’t know what - sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he added. The tips of his ears had gone green again.

“You should,” Oscar said, a desperate little laugh in his throat. “I - gods, Grizzop, I - ” Grizzop ran his thumb along the curve of Oscar’s jawline. Oscar made an agonized sound low in his throat and lunged forward, cradling Grizzop’s face in both hands and kissing him soundly.

Oscar half expected to be shoved away - he would have deserved to be, he thought - but instead Grizzop fell backwards with him, groaning into his mouth, fisting both hands in his hair. “You’re in your right mind?” he asked desperately. “You really want - ”

“I’ve _wanted,”_ Oscar breathed. “I meant it last night, since the day we _met - ”_

Grizzop hooked a hand over Oscar’s neck, pinning him close and kissing him fiercely, teeth and tongue. Oscar could swear he tasted like moonlight, like snow, like dew, the memory of spores behind his closed eyelids. “You’re so insufferable,” Grizzop groaned, pulling back just far enough to nuzzle into Oscar’s jaw. “Get on your back.”

Oscar obeyed eagerly, wrapping his arms around Grizzop’s waist and rolling them both over so Grizzop was straddling his waist. “Please,” he rasped, arching his hips off the ground. “Please, Grizzop, _please - ”_

Grizzop’s hands scrabbled at the ties of his trousers, and Oscar stared, stunned into silence, as he shoved them over his hips. He brought his hand up, hesitated, his eyes flickering up to Grizzop’s face. Grizzop arched an eyebrow at him. “You can touch,” he said, aiming for sardonic, coming off unsure.

Between Grizzop’s legs was a tightly wound bundle of tendrils, three or four distinct cords braided around each other, flushed deep green with blood, slick and glistening in the early morning light. Oscar ran a curious palm along it and it twitched, loosened slightly, each tendril pulsing independently of the others. “Oh,” he breathed, enraptured, the hot urgency beneath his skin briefly forgotten. “Will you ever cease to amaze me, darling?”

Grizzop blushed. “It’s just a dick,” he mumbled. He sucked in a gasp as Oscar leaned in to run his tongue along the underside of it, relishing each twist and bump beneath his tongue, moaning openly at the heavy taste of the fluid dripping from it. “You - ah - what do you want - ”

“Fuck me,” Oscar murmured, without taking his mouth off Grizzop’s cock. He pressed a sloppy kiss to the head, open-mouthed, his tongue running in little circles, feeling out the distinct tip of each tendril. “I’ve never wanted anything inside me _more.”_

“Greedy,” Grizzop said, dazed, hips swaying forward. His cock dripped copiously, the tendrils opening a bit more, growing a bit thicker under Oscar’s attention. Reluctantly, Grizzop pulled away. “You - uh - humans - you need lube, right?”

Oscar laughed, delighted at being as alien to Grizzop as Grizzop was to him. “Spit will do,” he said, grinning. “And you’re certainly wet enough.”

Grizzop settled himself between Oscar’s legs, one hand dipping down to tease his hole. “Okay,” he said. “Just uh. Tell me if I do it wrong.”

Oscar watched avidly as Grizzop sucked on his fingers, reconsidered, then curled his hand over his prick and gave it one long pull, gathering slick that he used to press two fingers into Oscar easily. “Good,” Oscar said weakly, tipping his head back to stare at the sky. He canted his hips upwards. _“More.”_

Grizzop was almost unbearably gentle with him, and by the time he lined up his hips with Oscar’s, Oscar had hooked his ankles across his back, his fingers gouging scores into the dirt. “Grizzop, please,” Oscar gasped. “I’m ready, please, I - _oh.”_

Grizzop’s cock eased into him in a slow glide, startling in how easy it was, Oscar’s body opening for him eagerly. It _flexed_ inside him, and Grizzop had bowed over him, ears brushing Oscar’s stomach, his breath coming in quick gasps. “You feel,” he mumbled. “You’re...”

Oscar groaned, deep and throaty, twisting in a long arch off the ground. Then Grizzop snapped his hips and he shouted like it was punched out of him. He pushed back against Grizzop’s hips, grinding hard against him; his cock writhed inside him, pressing against every sensitized inch of him, throbbing and pulsing and _overwhelming._

He wasn’t going to last very long at all, and couldn’t bring himself to care.

Grizzop ran the back of his fingers along Oscar’s prick and he came with a sob; Grizzop watched him, fascinated, then swiped a finger through the spend on his stomach and licked it clean. Oscar made a weak sound as he watched him, his brain fuzzy and humming. Not with spores this time, he thought. He rolled his hips, clenched around Grizzop’s prick for the pleasure of watching him gasp and squirm.

Grizzop drove into him and Oscar fell back onto the grass, moaning as he was taken, used, the strange sensation of Grizzop’s prick sending pulses of pleasure along his oversensitive nerves. He would swear it was growing bigger inside him and wanted nothing more than to experiment, to bring Grizzop off with his mouth and hands and watch his cock and learn what it did and how it reacted to every new stimulus.

Grizzop’s claws sank into the meat of Oscar’s thighs when he came, quiet but for a shuddering sigh, and when he pulled out, thick strands of fluid clung to his prick and Oscar’s thighs and hole, slick and wet. Oscar watched curiously as the tendrils of Grizzop’s cock curled tightly around themselves once more and retreated, slowly, into Grizzop’s body. “Darling,” Oscar murmured, then wet his lips and tried again. “Thank you.” He pressed a hand between his legs, ran a finger through the silky fluid coating him. It was jet black and opaque and, when he licked it from his fingers, not bitter at all.

“Gross,” Grizzop mumbled, but he patted Oscar’s stomach with fondness. “Sorry again, about the spore thing.”

“Don’t be,” Oscar hummed, and grinned. “I was about to ask if you wanted to try it again sometime.”


End file.
